


Dancing with Ghosts

by laceymcbain



Series: Shadows & Stone: Smallville Stories [5]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Christmas, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protectiveness, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:19:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceymcbain/pseuds/laceymcbain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is staying with Lex for the holidays, and Clark is less than thrilled.  Things get even worse when Lionel shows up.</p><p>Part 4 of 6 (complete) in what is affectionately known as "The Green Pigs and Ham" story arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing with Ghosts

_DEC. 20_

"That's just great." Clark slumped onto the worn couch in the Kent livingroom. "Bruce is visiting for Christmas. He'll be staying at Lex's the whole time I'm on holidays."

"Bruce who?" Martha asked, coming in from the kitchen.

"Bruce Wayne."

"Who's he?" Jonathan asked, settling down beside Clark and flipping on the game.

"A friend of Lex's." Yeah, Clark thought, a friend who routinely seemed to put his hands and lips on Lex when Clark was around.

"I guess that shouldn't be a surprise. He and Lex would move in the same social circles," Martha said almost to herself. Clark didn't like the way her eyes got a little nostalgic, as if she were picturing wealthy men in dark suits at elegant parties. Sometimes he forgot his mother had another life in Metropolis before she got married.

"He's also a philanthropist," Martha added in response to his skeptical look.

Clark's eyes widened in shock. "I knew I didn't like that guy."

"No, Clark, I mean he's done a lot of charity work. He owns a corporation in Gotham City."

"Yeah, Wayne Enterprises. Like that's original."

Jonathan shot a glance at his wife and turned the television off. "I think I've got some work to do in the barn."

Martha rolled her eyes at him. Even Jonathan could recognize jealousy when he heard it. She resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at her husband's retreating back. Coward. He never stuck around for these heart-to-heart chats anymore--not since Clark had come home and declared that he and Lex were involved and there wasn't anything they could do about it.

Jonathan's spot on the couch was still warm when Martha sat down. "How does Lex know Bruce?"

"They went to school together. They were roommates. Roommates with perks." Clark blushed furiously as he realized what he'd said. "Oh, God, I didn't mean to say that. I've just been--"

"It's okay, Clark," Martha said firmly, meeting her son's embarrassed gaze. Not that the idea of discussing Lex Luthor's sexual history thrilled her, but this was her son and he needed her support. She reminded herself that no mother liked to think that her child was growing up. Having sex. "I know Lex is a lot more experienced than you. He was married, after all."

"Yeah, but that's different." Lex's marriage to Desiree had only lasted long enough for her to try and kill him. She'd been a lot more interested in Lex's fortune than his body.

"How?" Martha was genuinely intrigued. Apparently Clark didn't see the women in Lex's life as any threat, but the mere mention of another man turned him into a jealous monster.

"He's a guy. And he's known Lex forever. They have all this history between them." Yeah, a history that involved a lot of sex. And probably handcuffs. Clark was pretty sure of that. Bruce seemed like the type.

"You know, Clark, it sounds like you're jealous." Martha could understand Clark's feelings. She'd seen pictures of Bruce Wayne in the newspaper and magazines; she remembered him being a handsome young man, dark and somewhat mysterious. "But I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. I've seen the way Lex looks at you."

Clark refused to be convinced. "Maybe I _am_ jealous, but how would you feel? I mean, what if dad had slept with someone else?"

Martha turned a sympathetic gaze on him. It was times like this she remembered how young seventeen was. "Clark, sometimes your first experience isn't with the person you end up marrying."

Clark blinked. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

"Your father and I were both adults when we met. Things happen ..."

"Ah! I don't want to know, Mom! Forget I brought it up. Jeez!" Clark felt like scrubbing his brain out with soap. God, he didn't even want to think about his parents having sex, let alone having sex with other people. That was just ... wrong.

"Clark, if you're old enough to be having sex, you're old enough to be discussing it like an adult." Martha folded the dishtowel in her lap and took her son's hand. "You rushed into this thing with Lex without a word to us until it was too late. You didn't think about the consequences at all, did you?"

Clark rolled his eyes. Martha hated that look--Clark was far too much like Jonathan sometimes. Stubborn and self-righteous.

"Mom, we've already been over this. I love Lex. That's not going to change, but sometimes I just don't need to be reminded that he slept with someone else." Or a lot of someone elses, Martha thought. Lex's reputation made Casanova seem like an inept young man who was a failure with women. She reminded herself it was wrong to listen to rumours, and patted Clark's hand in a soothing gesture.

"Are you worried that Lex still has feelings for Bruce?" She watched her son's face turn miserable. Clark nodded. "Has Lex done anything to make you think that?"

Clark thought for a moment. He didn't really want to tell his mother about the whole incident with the mutant pigs last month when he'd met Bruce for the first time. Or the argument with Bruce the next morning when he'd gone to the mansion and found him in bed with Lex. Sure, they'd been fully-dressed and Lex had been out like a light, but still the memory of that discovery was like a wound that just wouldn't heal. And he certainly didn't need to tell his mother that Bruce and Lex were pretending to be a couple in order to keep Lionel from investigating him too closely. Or about the blow-up he'd had at the mansion after the scene at the coffee shop--he'd practically told Bruce to go to hell. Clark had never wanted to hate anyone before, but Bruce Wayne made him reconsider. The man was so damned smug--and people thought Lex was arrogant. Bruce made Lex look like a poster child for humility.

"Clark, has Lex done something?" Martha repeated.

Clark took a deep breath, and decided there were some things he didn't need to tell his mother. He tried to swallow his own doubts. "Lex treats Bruce like an old friend, a best friend. I've never seen him treat anyone like that."

"Except you," Martha finished for him. And there was the crux of the situation. Martha knew it as well as she knew Lex loved her son with a single-minded devotion usually reserved for the very religious. She'd seen Lex walk into a hostage-situation and offer himself up, and she'd known that it was because he believed Clark was in danger. Even now that Lex knew Clark's secrets, he was fiercely protective--like a mother bear with a cub. She didn't think Lex would appreciate the comparison.

"Lex has always treated me like I'm special. Different. Even before he knew how different I am," Clark said. "It's just hard to see him like that with someone who isn't me."

"Have you talked to him about this?"

"Yeah, but he says there's nothing to worry about. Bruce is a friend." There was bitterness in Clark's voice.

"Then you have to trust Lex. A relationship that isn't built on trust ..."

"Yeah, I know," Clark muttered. He knew that all too well, but sometimes it was so hard to get past all the lying they'd done to each other.

"It'll be okay, honey. Why don't you treat it as an opportunity to get to know Bruce better? If he's such a good friend of Lex's, it might be a nice thing if the two of you were also friends."

Martha put her arms around her son and was happy when he didn't resist. Some days she wasn't sure where her little boy had gone, but she was going to hang onto him as long as she could.

"In fact," Martha said, "why not invite Bruce to spend Christmas with us?"

She couldn't see her son's face, but the immediate stiffness in his shoulders told her everything she needed to know. Clark wouldn't fight her on this, but it was clear he didn't like the idea. Martha gave him a squeeze and whispered, "It'll be fine, Clark. Promise. Maybe it will show you a whole other side of Bruce. And Lex."

Martha had a feeling that Christmas was going to be a lot more interesting than usual.

***

"It's Christmas, Bruce."

"Ho, ho, ho."

"It'll be fun." Lex stopped poking the fire and settled down on the leather couch beside Bruce. It had taken some doing to convince Bruce to take a break over the holidays. He needed to relax more.

"Your definition of fun used to involve leather and restraints, Lex. Forgive me if I'm having a hard time picturing you singing carols around a fire and drinking eggnog. Non-alcoholic eggnog."

"Martha's eggnog definitely has rum in it. I buy her a bottle of the good stuff every year expressly for that purpose, and she adds just a hint of nutmeg." Lex smiled at the thought of it. He could almost taste its rich, creamy goodness.

"Are you listening to yourself? You're starting to scare me. I know this town is a little weird, but you're talking about recipes like you're Martha Stewart. I'm seriously concerned about you living here; one day I'm going to show up and you're going to be a Stepford Lex."

"Just because I think spending Christmas with a real family might be a nice change from our usual routine--"

"Speak for yourself," Bruce said, and Lex could tell it was going to be difficult to sell Bruce on the idea of a Christmas with Clark's family.

"I happen to know that you spend most of the holidays working or attending social events that you hate. Years of Luthor Christmas parties in the coatroom, remember? We're too much alike."

"We managed to pass the time reasonably well in some of those coatrooms," Bruce said with a wicked grin.

"That's not the point." Lex couldn't quite manage to suppress a smile. He remembered those hot, breathless encounters pressed against one another amongst an array of fox stoles and cashmere trench coats. They'd always emerged slightly dishevelled and immensely pleased with themselves.

Bruce sighed, apparently recognizing a losing battle when he saw one. "And what, pray tell, is the point, Lex?"

"It'll be good for you to be around people."

"Alfred's people."

"And he's welcome to come too." Lex wouldn't even mind if Alfred showed up. He'd always liked him, and he had a hard time thinking of him as the butler. He'd been so much more like a father to Bruce--to both of them, if Lex was honest. The times he'd spent at Wayne Manor were among his fondest memories of growing up.

"You know he won't. He's spending Christmas with Leslie this year, and I gave the rest of the staff the holidays off. You're stuck with me."

"I _invited_ you, remember?" Lex shook his head, and laid a hand on Bruce's arm. He knew it was difficult for Bruce to feel at home outside of Gotham.

"What's wrong with just you and me hanging out here at the mansion? Or we could take the jet somewhere warm. Somewhere without Christmas trees and angels and all the cloying sentimentalism of the season."

"And people think I'm evil." Lex leaned into the corner of the couch and took a long look at Bruce. His usual black attire seemed too dark for the season. Lex wondered if Bruce would want to kill him if he bought him something red for Christmas. It was tempting to find out.

"You _are_ evil, Lex. All your shampoo smells like fruit, and you have a $2000 espresso machine and no coffee."

Lex refused to take the bait. "Next time bring your own damn shampoo and coffee if it's that important."

"It's not." Bruce shifted, tucking his arms behind his head and gazing at the study's high ceiling. "You have to admit, we've had some decent Christmases by ourselves. Remember the year we built the car?"

Lex smiled. They'd been sixteen, sporting freshly-minted licenses, and itching to hit the road. Bruce had already begun talking about some outrageous plan to dress up in dark clothing, stalking the night and seeking to avenge his parents' deaths. Lex had figured there was still time to talk him out of that, but the idea of a special car with gadgets had stuck in his brain. On Christmas Eve, after too much brandy and absolutely no supervision--Alfred had been stricken with the flu and they'd promised they could look after themselves--they'd decided to strip down one of the cars and improve it a little. Fourteen hours, two sets of chrome wheels, and several thousand dollars worth of tinkering later, they'd roared out of the driveway in a black and silver monstrosity they'd dubbed the Batmobile.

"That car was fucking brilliant considering we used the limo," Lex said fondly. "I thought for sure that Henri was going to kill us, though."

"I think he would've if we hadn't been so damn proud of ourselves. It was pretty impressive."

Bruce's laughter seemed to fill the room, and Lex felt a flood of goose bumps on his skin. He hadn't heard Bruce laugh like that in ages.

"Oh, God," Bruce continued, "remember we painted eyes on the front with phosphorescent paint? You could see that thing coming for miles."

"Even after Henri repainted it, the car always looked like it was staring at you," Lex agreed.

"What about the year we ..."

***

Clark stood outside the door to the study, waiting for the right time to interrupt. It wasn't like he was trying to eavesdrop. He wouldn't do that. It was just that Lex and Bruce seemed deep in conversation, and Clark didn't want to be rude. Bruce was laughing, for God's sake, and that seemed monumental enough to stop Clark in his tracks. The man was so serious all the time. Clark was getting the distinct impression the Bruce that Lex knew and the Bruce the rest of the world saw were two entirely different people.

They were talking about some car they'd redone. It sounded like a good memory. Clark tried to picture Bruce and Lex at sixteen and wondered what they must've been like. He cleared his throat, and conversation stopped mid-sentence.

"Clark." Lex was in motion before Clark's name had left his lips. Clark sometimes wondered if Lex didn't have a hint of super-speed himself. He touched Clark's arm and drew him into the study--it was the most Clark could expect from Lex when anyone was around. Privacy was something Lex hoarded like gold, and Clark sometimes wondered if it would always be this way. If their relationship would always feel like a secret.

"Hi, Bruce," Clark said, trying to squeeze every drop of warmth from his voice. His mother had told him to be polite, to try to make friends with Bruce, and he was going to give it his best shot. For Lex. For the sake of their relationship. He was going to like Bruce even if it killed him.

"School out for the holidays?"

He was not going to set him on fire.

Clark clenched his teeth and nodded through a smile that made his face hurt. His mother had no idea what she was asking him to endure. He'd sooner swallow meteor rocks than make polite conversation with someone who took every opportunity to remind him how young and inexperienced he was.

"No one to spend Christmas with?" Clark asked snidely. He felt Lex's hand clutch his arm a little tighter as Bruce's impassive expression faltered ever so slightly. Bullseye.

"No."

Clark suddenly felt like an absolute jerk. The look Lex was giving him confirmed that. Shit. He didn't even know what he'd done.

"I'm not _no one_." Lex's voice sounded forced. Clark wondered if it was too late to start this conversation over.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. That was rude."

"Never apologise for being honest, Clark." Bruce stood up to go. "I'll leave you two alone."

"No!" It came out sounding more vehement than Clark had intended. He couldn't let Bruce leave, and certainly not like this. "I mean, you're the reason I came over."

Bruce raised an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly. Clark wished he could have that much poise just once in his life.

"My parents wanted to make sure you knew you're invited to spend Christmas with us. You and Lex."

Bruce's smile was cool and polite. "That's kind of them, Clark, but I have no intention of intruding on your family celebrations. I'm the last person you want darkening your door on Christmas Day."

Bruce moved towards the door, and Clark stared after him. He had to do something, and obviously Lex wasn't going to help him out. Why was dealing with Bruce always like walking into a minefield?

"I want you to come," Clark said, not thinking. As soon as the words were out, he wondered where they'd come from. Apparently self-preservation was a powerful thing because somewhere his brain seemed to know his mother would kill him if she found out how rude he'd been to Bruce, and had taken matters into its own hands. Or synapses.

"Keep working on that honesty thing, Clark. You were doing better before."

Bruce made it very difficult to like him for longer than ten-second intervals. Clark wondered how he and Lex had been friends for so long because the way things were going, Clark figured Bruce would've been a tiny pile of ash if it had been them having to share a room together for eight years.

"Look, I meant it," Clark said. "Although now that you're being a jerk, I'm not so sure." He was rewarded by a genuine smile from Bruce. The guy was so weird. Clark let out a breath and took a step closer. "You're Lex's friend. His best friend." The words hurt to say, but Clark knew they were true so he kept going. "I might not always get what you're trying to do, but I know you wouldn't hurt Lex. Or me. And I know you've been trying to protect me from Lionel. There are probably a hundred things you've done for me that I'll never know about."

Clark could see Lex nodding out of the corner of his eye. Lex and Bruce were alike in that. They were both protectors. Clark suspected he'd never know exactly what Lex did to keep him safe at any given time, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. There would come a time when it would be important to know, when lines would need to be drawn, but for now he suspected Lex was more capable of protecting him than he was of protecting himself. At least when it came to men like Lionel.

"So, let me say thank you," Clark continued, meeting Bruce's gaze. His eyes were as dark as any Clark had ever seen, but there was a sense of warmth underneath the darkness. He wasn't sure he'd ever noticed it before. "Spend Christmas with us."

"Thank you, Clark," Bruce said with a half-smile. "I'd be delighted."

***

 _DEC. 21_

Bruce and Lex pushed through the door of the mansion, shaking snow off their boots. The sunrise was casting pink shadows across the long hallway.

"I haven't been riding in years," Bruce said. "I'd forgotten how much I enjoy it."

"See? And you thought it was a stupid idea." Lex rubbed his hands against his frozen face. It was damn cold outside, and they were both sporting pink cheeks and red noses.

"No, I said it was ridiculous for you to ride in winter without a hat. That's not the same thing at all."

"You know I hate hats."

"You also hate being cold, Lex." Bruce had listened to Lex bitch about his cold head every winter since they were nine. It was old news, and Bruce couldn't even remember what had sparked Lex's particular aversion to hats.

"Well, the cold is the lesser of two evils. Besides," Lex said, unwinding his scarf, "it was worth it to see you on Brutus."

"He's a beautiful horse." Bruce tugged off his leather gloves and tucked them in a pocket. Indeed, "beautiful" didn't even begin to do the horse justice. He was magnificent--a black stallion standing eighteen hands with the demeanor of an ancient warhorse. Brutus was proud, independent, and strong.

"I knew you'd get along." Lex hung his jacket in the closet and kicked off his boots.

"Why?" Bruce braced himself for some kind of back-handed compliment.

"You're both temperamental and difficult," Lex offered with a smile, moving closer and brushing snow off Bruce's shoulder. Purple cashmere bobbed against Bruce's cheek, the fabric feather-soft on his skin.

"We also both kick without warning." Lex continued to grin up at him, cheeks practically glowing. Bruce had never known anyone else who radiated pure energy the way Lex did. It was a little like being close to a nuclear reactor. "What, Lex? You're looking at me funny."

"You're funny-looking?"

Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Lex was a heartbeat away, looking at him like he was the best thing Lex had ever seen and the only thing that existed. Flushed, breathless, and so, so close. Close enough to touch. Bruce felt a familiar warmth flow over him.

"You're looking at me like you haven't in years." Bruce hated that his voice was nothing more than a whisper. He felt the mahogany door pressed against his back, the wood carving noticeable even through his jacket. There was nowhere to go--not that he wanted to get away.

Lex seemed as caught in the moment as Bruce, and Bruce didn't want to do anything that would end this. Maybe it was pathetic, but he'd rather have these moments with Lex than nothing at all.

"Lex?" It was a question of sorts, and one Bruce wasn't sure he wanted an answer to. Somehow it was enough to know Lex still felt something, even if he wouldn't act on it. Not with Clark in the picture. Lex had been very clear about his feelings for Clark, and Bruce accepted that.

"Maybe I haven't seen you in years, Bruce." Lex's blue eyes were as intense as flame. "You need to smile more. Laugh. Fall in love."

The fingers stroking Bruce's shoulder stilled, any pretense of snow having long disappeared into the fabric of his jacket. Bruce's hands slipped down to rest on Lex's slim hips, an automatic gesture. Too many years of intimate conversations pressed against doors in dark hallways, years of knowing each other's bodies in the dark. They were a world away from Smallville. Bruce's fingers sank into cashmere and wool, and didn't let go. Lex smelled like wet snow and horses, leather and cinnamon. His scar stood out like a snowflake against lips that were red and a little bit chapped. Neither of them moved. The entire house seemed to be holding its breath.

Bruce wondered if Lex's mouth would taste the same, if the smooth slide of his tongue could make the years dissolve. Lex's eyes were shouting at him to do something, and Bruce wanted to--God, he wanted to--but he wasn't sure if Lex would forgive him, didn't know if Clark knew the meaning of the word.

Then the brass knob turned. Without warning, Bruce was tumbling forward into Lex, arms wrapped around him as they fell.

Silhouetted in the doorway, the pale morning sunlight streaming in behind him, Lionel Luthor looked at the two of them sprawled awkwardly on the floor, and laughed.

"Am I interrupting?"

***

Lex poured himself two fingers of scotch from the decanter on the bar and stared at his father's suitcase. He sincerely hoped Smallville was just a stopover as Lionel left on some exotic Christmas jaunt. Wishful thinking since Smallville was the last stop on the train to nowhere, and Lex knew it. It was one of the reasons his father had chosen it for Lex's exile.

"Where did Bruce disappear to?" Lionel asked amiably.

"He went to take a shower. We were out riding." Lex didn't know why he still felt the urge to explain himself to his father. When Lionel walked into the room, it was like being a kid all over again.

"Ah, yes, that beast you insist on keeping."

"Brutus just needs a firm hand to guide him."

Lionel chuckled. "The eternally misunderstood Brutus."

"You didn't come here to talk about horses, Dad." Lex looked at his father and waited. There had to be a reason for this visit, and Lex suspected it had something to do with Bruce's presence. It had been too much to hope that Lionel would leave them alone for the holidays.

"It's Christmas, son." Lionel spread his arms as if to encompass the world. "Isn't that reason enough for a visit?"

"No," Lex said, settling onto the couch. "Didn't you say that ‘every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas,' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart'?"

Lionel smiled and shook his head. "I'm quite sure I never said anything so trite. I think you're confusing me with Ebenezer Scrooge."

"Sorry, Dad. Hard to tell the difference sometimes."

"Ah, Lex, I thought we were past these petty vagaries, but apparently not. Paint me as the miserly old man if you wish, but you don't get to be where I am without making sacrifices."

"What are you up to now, Dad?" Lex sipped his scotch. He knew enough not to expect a straight answer from his father.

"You wound me, Lex. I apologize for interrupting your Christmas tryst, but I was merely concerned for your well-being." Lionel stood behind him and laid a hand on Lex's shoulder in what Lex could only assume was supposed to be a gesture of fatherly concern.

Lex was tired of jousting, and he was still trying to process what had happened in the hallway with Bruce. It was as if for an instant they'd been sixteen again, standing in the cloak room at Excelsior after a polo match, breathless and excited, and suddenly Lex had wanted everything he'd wanted then, and with the same intensity. It was as if the years had melted as easily as the snow on Bruce's jacket. If Lionel hadn't interrupted, Lex honestly didn't know what would've happened, and that scared him. It was so easy to fall back into old patterns, too easy to imagine Bruce's big hands on his body, the damp hair framing his face, the way he looked when he actually let go. So damn rare that look, losing control. And it usually only happened when he was ...

Lex shook himself back to reality, dislodging his father's hand from his shoulder. He and Bruce were playing with fire, and Clark was the one who was going to get burned. Lex didn't want that to happen. They were going to have to be more careful.

"So, how long are you staying?" Lex asked with resignation.

"Just ‘til Christmas Eve. I'll take the blue room in the east wing. You and Bruce will hardly know I'm here."

Lex swallowed the last of the drink in his hand. Only his father would have him imbibing hard liquor at ten in the morning. If these unexpected visits kept up, Lex was going to need a new liver. Realization burned its way down his throat along with the scotch. Three days of Lionel at the mansion. Three days of holding Clark at a distance. Three days keeping up the pretense of a sexual relationship with Bruce that didn't exist anymore, but nonetheless threatened to reassert itself at any moment.

Three nights of sleeping with Bruce.

They were in a serious amount of trouble.

***

Lex pushed through the door into the master bath without a second thought.

"Bruce, we've got a--" Lex stopped dead at the sight of Bruce's firm, white ass bent over in front of him. Bruce stood up, water dripping down his muscled thighs, a small bottle of shampoo in one hand. Lex stared blankly as he took in the expanse of wet, warm flesh in front of him. His body responded instantly. "--problem," he finished weakly.

"You know most people just leave the shampoo in the shower," Bruce chided.

Lex dragged his eyes upward from Bruce's semi-hard cock to his friend's eyes. He was vaguely aware he was blushing. Fuck, they were in so much trouble. Clark was going to kill him, and Lex wouldn't blame him.

"Most guests bring their own shampoo," Lex countered, the quiver in his voice giving him away. "And I'm not big on the shampoo use, in case you hadn't noticed. Besides, it's _my_ bathroom."

"Our bathroom," Bruce corrected, "and I'm not exactly a guest. I'm your lover, remember?" Bruce stepped back into the shower, closing the opaque glass door behind him. Lex swallowed at the word "lover." This was such a bad plan. "I assume Lionel's staying?"

"'Til Christmas Eve. You realize we're going to have to sleep in my room while he's here." The air in the room was beginning to get heavy with steam. Apparently Bruce still liked his showers scalding.

"I assumed that would happen anyway. I figured last night's separate bedrooms was an anomaly."

"Don't assume," Lex said, more harshly than he meant to. He saw Bruce pause briefly before he went back to washing his hair.

"You're making this a lot more difficult than it has to be, you know."

"What does that mean?" Lex stood beside the door of the shower, finger absently tracing patterns in the steam. The image of Bruce's naked body hovered on the edge of his mind, and it wasn't lost on him that all he had to do to see him again was open the door.

"I saw the look on your face when you walked in."

"You're imagining things, Bruce."

"If you say so."

Lex was amazed at the casual tone. It was covering something deeper, a vein of hurt, a hint of challenge.

"We're in trouble," Lex muttered, and in his mind, he was already reaching for the glass door, hand steady on the stainless steel handle. He barely had time to register Bruce's look of surprise before he was pushing him against the white and blue tile, pushing into him like he'd wanted to downstairs, feeling the wet skin under his flesh, red from the heat of the shower. Lex didn't care there was water pouring into his eyes, or that his cashmere sweater was ruined, or that his father was downstairs. He needed to touch Bruce, feel the curve of his hips, the jut of bones beneath his fingers, the deep curls of black hair as he reached for Bruce's cock, now hot and hard in his hand. Lex felt a mouth on his, no preliminaries, no soft caresses--it was as it'd always been with them, wild and brutal, teeth and tongues battling for dominance. Sharp edges thrusting against one another, cutting each other open with need.

Lex opened his eyes and realized he'd left a clear spot where he'd leaned his head against the shower's steamy glass wall. He could hear the squeak of the taps turning, the last splashes of water cascading to the floor, the sound of flesh on flesh. Lex took a shaky breath.

"They're ghosts, Lex," Bruce went on. "Nothing more than ghosts."

The towel began to disappear over the top of the shower door. Lex thought about grabbing it, clinging to one more moment of a Bruce that was naked and wet, waiting for him behind a thin wall of glass. He let the corner of the towel slip from his fingers.

"Lex?"

Maybe Bruce was right. Maybe these feelings were just ghosts, but even ghosts could be dangerous.

He pushed through the steam-filled room and out into the hall, not waiting for Bruce to emerge from the shower, not daring to risk temptation.

He needed to see Clark. Now.

***

"You've got to be kidding," Clark said bitterly. He was piling bales onto the back of the red truck to take out to the back pasture. Lex leaned against the box of the truck, picking at a stray piece of hay.

"You sure you don't want any help with those?" Lex offered again, and Clark summoned up a glare worthy of a Luthor.

"Offering to help with my chores is not going to make up for Bruce and your dad being at the mansion over Christmas."

"I'm sorry, Clark."

"Yeah, me too." Another bale of hay slammed into the back of the truck. Lex took a step backwards and thrust his hands into the pockets of his long coat. He looked like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"I'll see you on Christmas Day." Lex's tone was conciliatory. "And the week after Christmas, we can do something. Just the two of us."

"Gee, swell." Clark didn't even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Lex sighed. "I don't really know what you want me to do, Clark. My hands are tied. I had no idea my dad would show up. Now Bruce and I are stuck with the situation."

"Yeah, and I bet he's heartbroken about sharing your bed." Clark grabbed another bale, not even noticing when the twine snapped beneath his fingers.

"We're doing it for you. We're trying to protect--"

"Keep telling yourself that, Lex. Maybe it started as that, but it's got nothing to do with me now. There's something else going on, and I guess you and Bruce have to work that out. You have to decide what you want. If it's me, you know where I am."

Clark pulled off his gloves and threw them into the cab of the truck. Lex stood stunned and speechless, not even moving as Chloe's red VW rolled to a stop beside him.

"Hey, guys." Chloe stepped out of the car and looked at the two of them. "Is this a bad time?"

"Yes," Lex said.

"No," Clark countered. "What's up, Chloe?" He moved to stand beside her, ignoring Lex's awkward shifting on the other side of the truck.

"Um, I just wanted to ask you something, Clark." Chloe bit her lower lip nervously.

The last thing Clark needed was Chloe getting interested in his relationship, or lack thereof, with Lex. Best to keep her occupied, not give her too much time to think.

"Sure. Lex was just leaving." Clark slipped an arm around Chloe's waist. "We can talk in the barn."

"Bye, Lex," Chloe said, glancing over her shoulder as Clark whisked her away to his fortress of solitude.

He stood by the loft window and looked out in time to see Lex's Ferrari tearing out of the driveway. It hurt to know he'd probably just driven Lex straight into Bruce's arms, but Clark couldn't stand to play this game anymore. There was something going on, even if Lex couldn't see it, and Clark didn't want Lex like this--didn't want him straddling a fence that Clark hadn't even known existed until a month ago. There had to be some lines in this relationship, and if Lex wasn't prepared to make them, then Clark would have to.

Clark turned back to Chloe and tried to put on a cheerful smile.

"So, what did you want to ask me, Chloe?"

***

Martha tucked a pair of brown leather gloves into her basket and headed for the selection of men's ties. It was well past time that Clark had something that didn't clip on. Between her and Lex, maybe they'd be able to do something about Clark's abominable fashion sense, which seemed entirely inherited from his father.

Martha turned at the sound of her name, and found herself staring into cool, grey eyes.

"Lionel," she said, startled. Lionel Luthor was just about the last person she expected to run into in Madison's Men's Wear in downtown Smallville. "I--I didn't think you shopped here."

Seeing his smile, she realized what a stupid thing it was to say. Of course Lionel didn't shop in a store whose highest ticket suit was probably less than what he paid for his pocket handkerchiefs.

"I'm not actually shopping," Lionel returned smoothly. "I saw your truck parked outside, and thought I might wish you a Merry Christmas."

"Oh. Merry Christmas." She wondered if she should invite him to spend Christmas with them as well. Two Luthors for Christmas dinner might be more than Jonathan's heart could handle. It might be more than Lex could handle, if she was honest. She held her tongue.

"I'm in town ‘til Christmas Eve," Lionel said, as if reading her thoughts. "Just wanted to check up on the boys."

"The boys?"

"Lex and Bruce."

"Yes, of course." Martha should have realized Lionel didn't mean Clark--he didn't know anything about Lex and Clark's relationship, and with any luck it would stay that way. Despite his charm, Lionel was a dangerous man. "We asked Bruce and Lex to join us for Christmas Day."

It was Lionel's turn to look startled. "That's ... very progressive of you, Martha. I have to say I'm a bit surprised. I didn't think your husband was overly fond of my son. Or his friendship with Clark."

Martha bit back the urge to explain it wasn't Lex that Jonathan had a problem with. "Lex has been a good friend to Clark, and it wouldn't be right to invite him and not include his guest."

"His lover, you mean," Lionel corrected. Seeing the look on Martha's face, he went on. "Bruce and Lex are ... together. I thought you realized that. Oh, my, this is embarrassing." His tone suggested nothing of the sort. "I assumed you knew they were a couple. But, of course, Clark may not have known. Perhaps he and Lex are not as close as I'd thought?"

Martha met Lionel's gaze, refusing to give anything away. Let Lionel get his information elsewhere. "Actually, Clark has a number of good friends, so no, I guess he and Lex maybe aren't as close as they used to be. It's nice Lex has Bruce in his life, though. Lionel, I'd better get going. Last minute shopping to finish." She gestured to the list in her hand. Lionel nodded demurely.

"Of course. Have a lovely Christmas, Martha. I hope you get everything your heart desires." He laid a hand on her arm and squeezed before turning to go.

Martha grabbed the first acceptable looking tie in shades of blue, and thrust it into her basket along with a scarf for Jonathan and a knitted black toque for Lex. She didn't give a damn if the boy had something against hats--he was getting something to keep his head warm. She grabbed a package of men's black wool socks on her way to the counter. She'd never met Bruce, but if he was like most men, he could always use socks. No guest in her house was going to be without presents on Christmas morning.

And as soon as she got home she was going to sit Clark down and have a long talk with him about the importance of telling your parents everything.

After she talked to Lex.

She plunked her basket down on the counter and smiled at the salesclerk. "I'm in a hurry," she said tightly.

***

Martha was putting her packages in the truck when she felt a hand on her sleeve. She whirled around, catching Lex's surprised expression as she did so.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I didn't mean to startle you," Lex started, taking a step backwards.

Martha took a deep breath, slammed the truck door behind her and took Lex by the arm. "We need to talk. Now." She pulled him into The Talon and ushered him towards a booth at the back.

Lex stared at her with concern as she ordered them two coffees, and slipped her coat onto the seat beside her. It looked like she was prepared to be there for some time. He wondered what Clark had told her.

"What exactly is going on with you and my son?" she asked after the coffee had appeared, and the waitress had left to serve someone else.

Lex didn't know how to answer the question. He opened his mouth and closed it again, feeling entirely too much like a fish out of water. She seemed to sense his confusion, and waited for him to take a mouthful of coffee before trying a different approach.

"Okay, let me put this another way. Are you and Bruce Wayne lovers?" By willpower alone, Lex was able to stop himself from spraying coffee all over himself and Martha.

"What?" he asked. "Did Clark tell you--"

"No, your father did." Martha watched Lex's expression go from confused to angry to accepting in the space of a blink. He put his coffee down and leaned forward. When he spoke, his voice was low.

"My father's been actively investigating Clark for months. Bruce is an old friend, as I'm sure Clark's told you. We decided it was in Clark's best interests to let my father think Bruce and I were involved."

"In Clark's best interests?" Martha asked with trepidation. She shook her head. "Lex, he loves you. Don't you know what something like that will do to him?"

"I know, Martha! I didn't know then, but I do now. But it's too late; the game's already underway."

"It's not a game, Lex. It's Clark's heart." Sometimes she wanted to shake Lex. For all his intelligence, he was absolutely clueless about things that involved people or their feelings.

"I know that," he snapped, and immediately looked apologetic. "I know. God, I didn't mean to hurt him, and I didn't expect things with Bruce to be this complicated."

Martha's eyebrows shot up. "So there _is_ something going on?"

"No." Lex shook his head. "But Bruce and I have a lot of history, and sometimes it's hard to see where that history ends." Lex looked at her, asking for understanding. "I love Clark, you know that." Martha nodded. She knew that without a doubt. "But Bruce has been part of my life since I was a child. He's important to me. Being with him in close quarters again has been ... challenging."

Martha touched his arm gently. "It's okay, Lex. You don't owe me any explanations, but you do owe them to Clark."

"Nothing's happened," Lex said, and Martha had to believe him. "But my father's around, and we need him to believe there's nothing between Clark and me. I need him to stay away from Clark."

"What do you think will happen if he finds out? About Clark."

Lex's face was grim. "I don't know if I'll be able to protect him. My resources are too tenuous with LexCorp still floundering. I'm afraid of what my father would do if he knew the truth. He could take Clark somewhere, and I might not be able to find him. To save him."

Martha gripped her coffee cup until she was afraid it might shatter. Someone taking her son, taking him away to do experiments on him. It was her worst nightmare, and apparently Lex's too.

"So the relationship with Bruce is ...?"

"A distraction. A diversion, if you will. Something to keep Dad's attention while I'm getting LexCorp on more solid ground, to ensure that he won't be able to take it from me."

"And you're doing all this for Clark?"

Lex smiled indulgently. "No, I'm not that noble. LexCorp is for me, but it _will_ give me the means to protect him better. But not if my father believes there's something to find out about Clark. He already has too many suspicions. He's actually the one who got Bruce involved."

"I'm not sure I understand," Martha said.

"He went to see Bruce. He never knew exactly what our relationship was in high school. Dad didn't pay much attention after my mom died. Anyway, I guess he thought Bruce would spy on me in exchange for some business contracts--"

"And would he?" Martha tried to block out the idea that any father would use his son's friends to spy on him. She needed to know how much Lex trusted this man he'd brought into Clark's life.

"Never." Lex sounded certain. "I'd trust Bruce with my life. And Clark's, and I don't say that lightly."

"I'm glad to hear that, Lex, because it's very possible Clark's life will be in your hands someday." If it isn't already, she thought. She hadn't approved of this relationship, but she knew Lex well enough to know he was a man of his word. He would never deliberately hurt her son. Of that she was positive. She had no doubt he would put his life on the line for Clark--she'd already seen as much.

"Dad's arrival created a situation I wasn't expecting," Lex said, his eyes dropping into his coffee cup. Martha suddenly got it. If Lionel believed Lex and Bruce were lovers, they were going to have to act like it. With Lionel in the mansion that meant something more specific than being seen together. They would be forced to share a room, if not a bed. Martha felt her heart ache for Clark.

"Have you talked to Clark about this?"

"I tried to. He--he told me I needed to decide what I wanted."

Martha smiled. That sounded like Clark. "He's not any better about making up his mind, you know. Give him some time."

"He hasn't told you about any of this, has he?" Lex asked suddenly.

Martha shook her head. "And we'll be having a talk about that as soon as I get home. In the meantime, you have some decisions to make, Lex." She watched his face darken, and she wanted to make it easier for him. He tried so hard to do the right thing by everyone, and life always seemed to go so catastrophically wrong for him.

"It's important my father believe Clark is nothing more than a friend, that there's nothing special about him. If it comes to a choice between protecting him or saving our relationship, you know what I'll do."

Yes, Martha knew. Lex would sacrifice everything for Clark, even the things he wanted most. It was in his nature.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Lex. But try to understand how he feels. He's very young, and suddenly he has to compete for your attention. What you have with Bruce is obviously important to you, and whether you're pretending or not, Clark can't help but feel he's losing something."

"They're so different, Martha," Lex said experimentally. When she didn't say anything, he continued. "I need them both in my life. I love Clark. But I've known Bruce forever. I--I love him too, and I always will. It's hard to explain." When Lex caught Martha's eyes, he was surprised there was no sign of judgment there. He'd never been confronted with such open acceptance, except from Clark. "I've tried to be honest with Clark, and somehow that just makes it worse. He assumes what I feel for Bruce is the same as what I feel for him. He doesn't see how different it can be with different people."

Martha nodded again. She remembered her first love, her first kiss, the sweet newness of it all. And she remembered Diego, the film student she'd met at college, the one who'd taught her about Spanish guitar, French kisses, Italian wine. There were others that had faded over time, rarely considered but fondly remembered. None of them was anything like the solid, stable love she'd found with Jonathan Kent. It was deep and abiding, and when she sometimes missed the excitement of those earlier romances, she remembered love was a choice, and a lasting relationship was much more important than a fleeting moment of passion.

"Believe it or not, I understand, Lex." If Lex looked at her quizzically for a moment, she chose not to notice.

"If I could lie to him, tell him there's nothing there, it would be so much easier, but I swore I wouldn't do that."

"Honesty is a difficult road to follow," Martha agreed. "You're doing fine. Clark's just young, and he's afraid of losing you."

"Bruce and I are trying to keep things under control, but we've never been very good at boundaries. Either of us. He was the only person I had when I was growing up. We were everything to each other."

There was a note of desperation in Lex's voice that Martha didn't think she'd ever heard. She knew something about Bruce's tragic past, his parents' murders. It had been all over the news at the time. She wondered if Clark knew. She doubted it--Lex would've done his best to keep Bruce's privacy intact, and now he was paying the price, torn between old secrets and new ones. Clark clearly had no idea what Lex went through trying to do the right thing. Bruce had been brother, friend, confidante, and finally lover. It was an enormous responsibility to be someone's entire world. Martha wondered what it had done to them--two young boys already broken by life--to have faced the world like that. She suspected Clark had reason to be concerned. Tragedy had a way of forging unbreakable bonds.

"Sometimes you remind me of my mother," Lex said softly.

Martha couldn't help herself. She pulled him into a tight hug. Lex was no more than a boy himself. A boy who had grown up without a mother, and with a cruel and abusive father. Whose closest childhood friend was an orphan who'd seen his parents die in front of him. What twist of fate had brought those two together? And now, Lex had fallen in love with an alien with super-human powers, the last of a dying planet. It was so absurd she almost laughed. Instead, she held Lex tighter, ignoring the strange glances they were getting.

"Everything will be okay, Lex. Trust me. Everything will be fine."

***

Lex headed straight for the bar when he got home. The muscles in his neck were tight and aching. He rubbed absently at them as he poured his first drink. His meeting with Martha had been unexpected, and unexpectedly emotional. He needed a drink. A large one. Lex downed the scotch in one swallow and poured another, the burn in his throat familiar and comforting. He refilled his glass.

"I was getting worried," Bruce said.

Lex turned towards the shadows by the fireplace, where Bruce was standing, a book in one hand. If Lex was completely honest, he'd known Bruce was there, known it the moment he entered the room. Old habits truly did die hard. He drained his glass and said nothing.

"You took off in such a hurry. Everything with Clark all right?"

Bruce pulled a ribbon marker across the page and closed the book around it. He placed it back on the shelf. From its location, Lex knew it was poetry. Eliot. Maybe Browning. It was hard to make out the exact volume in the shifting firelight.

"Lex?"

Bruce moved silently across the room, no more than a shadow emerging from the other shadows, and Lex suddenly wanted to be away from this place. He wanted the bright lights and noise of Metropolis, the pounding rhythms of a club, the feel of a hundred people moving around him, making him one of their own. He wanted to forget about being grown-up, responsible. About choices and ghosts.

The hand on his shoulder startled him more than it should have, and when he moved, the decanter tumbled off the bar, taking the three Ty Nant bottles with it, shattering in a spectacular blaze of glass and liquid. He stared at the spreading pool on the floor, aware in some distant way that there were drops falling into the pool of amber liquid, and he wondered for a moment if someone was crying. Then Bruce was carefully extracting shards of Lex's broken glass from his hand, swearing softly about recklessness and Lex's ability to heal. Bruce pressed a soft handkerchief against the palm of Lex's bleeding hand and held it there. The white square slowly turned red, one thin line extending across Lex's palm like the edge of a sword, a dozen red pinpricks staggered across the background like fireworks.

Somehow they ended up in Lex's room, although Lex didn't remember navigating the stairs. He felt strangely as if he were drunk, although he knew he hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to warrant the way he was feeling. He and Bruce tumbled awkwardly onto the bed, and Lex couldn't seem to get his limbs to work right. His eyes fluttered closed.

"Stay with me," Bruce was saying. "Open your eyes, Lex. Look at me. Look at me, dammit! Lex!"

Lex pulled his lids open, feeling the room swim around him. A cool cloth brushed over his face, and he tried to smile. Bruce looked so serious. He was always so serious these days. Lex needed to do something about that. When he felt better. When the room stopped spinning. He reached a hand towards Bruce's face, hoping to comfort him, to tell him everything would be alright, but he couldn't quite get his hand to cooperate. It flopped restlessly at his side.

Lex felt his eyes pried open, a light flashed into his pupils. He blinked away with a groan and a mumbled expletive. For the first time, he realized Bruce had a cell phone and was speaking into it in sharp, clipped sentences.

"I don't care if it's the Queen of England, Toby, it's Lex ... I don't know. I don't think he took anything. He was gone most of the day ... Just meet the goddamned chopper. I'll have a car at the strip for you. Lionel can't know you're here. ... Toby. Please ... It's bad."

Lex heard the phone snap shut, and there were hands on him again. He felt himself pulled close to Bruce's body, and the cool cloth was back, stroking across his face and scalp. Bruce was saying his name over and over, and Lex tried to stay awake, tried to do what Bruce said, but it was as if a veil was pulled across his eyes.

Sound and light blurred into one endless spinning darkness.

***

The next thing Lex knew he was drowning. For a moment, he wondered if he'd fallen back in time to the moment when he'd first met Clark, the icy plunge into the river, the warm lips that pulled him from his ethereal flight and set them both on the path toward destiny. He felt the push of air into his lungs, his chest inflating like a balloon, and then his eyes snapped open.

There was a hard thrust against his chest, air expelled from his lungs by force, then cold water rushing over his face and across his body. The eyes looking into his were black, not green, and Lex felt lips on his, warmth filling him.

"Breathe, Lex. Come on. Breathe, dammit."

Lex drew a shaky breath, and another.

"Clark?" Even as he whispered it, he knew it wasn't right. The eyes blinked at him, and a hand brushed his face.

"No, it's Bruce. Don't try to talk." The whisper was ragged, breath ghosting over Lex's skin like the lightest kiss. Of course it was Bruce. One of them would always be there to save him.

Lex's eyes never left Bruce's, and he slowly became aware that there was water pouring off his face. They seemed to be in a room of white and blue and glass.

"Where the fuck are we?" Lex managed to get out, and was instantly smothered by Bruce's large arms. It took a moment for him to realize Bruce was laughing.

Just then, Toby pushed through the door of the master bath, and stood staring.

"Are you _trying_ to kill him?" Toby shut off the cold water streaming down on top of them.

"He stopped breathing," Bruce said, struggling to his feet. Lex felt himself lifted as if he were a child, and the world went black again.

***

Toby pressed an ear to Lex's bare chest and listened.

"Don't you have any proper medical equipment? A stethoscope, perhaps?" Bruce asked.

Toby glared at him. "I left a reception at the mayor's house to be here."

"That's a step up from the flask you used to keep in your office." Bruce rubbed at his hair with a towel. "You do have an actual medical degree, don't you, Toby?"

"Best ten bucks I ever spent. Nice shiny piece of paper straight from the back of _Popular Mechanics_."

Bruce growled softly, ignoring Toby's chuckle as he tied off Lex's arm and gave him an injection of something clear. It was the third needle he'd plunged into Lex's arm in the last ten minutes, and there were ugly red marks bright against his pale skin.

"That should help him sleep. You might consider doing the same." Toby looked Bruce over. "You look like shit."

"You always know just what to say." Bruce glanced down. His clothes were absolutely ruined, but it hadn't seemed like much of an issue when Lex had stopped breathing. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it towards the corner, then reached for the buckle on his belt.

"I saw enough of you naked when you were a teenager. Go change, and give me a moment's peace," Toby said gruffly. He held Lex's wrist, counting pulse points against the ticking clock.

"I'm not leaving him."

"I just saved his sorry ass. I'm hardly going to let him die in the next two minutes." Toby grabbed Bruce's arm. "I'm not above giving you a shot to knock you out."

"You do, and it'll be the last shot you ever give." Bruce shrugged off Toby's grip, and ignored the eyes wandering over his torso.

"New scars, I see. The corporate jungle must be a dangerous place."

Bruce ignored the observation and walked into the adjoining room with a backwards glance over his shoulder. "I don't give a damn if you like me or not, Toby, but this is Lex. I would never have asked you here for myself."

"I wouldn't have come for you," Toby said when Bruce appeared wearing dry sweats and a t-shirt. "There are colours other than black, you know."

"Black isn't a colour, it's a lifestyle."

"Some things never change." Toby adjusted the blanket around Lex and checked his pupils again.

"Everything changes."

"Not you and Lex. You two attract trouble like dogs attract fleas."

"This wasn't our fault."

"It never is," Toby muttered. "Where's the Kent kid? He should be here."

Bruce leaned over Toby menacingly. "This is the last place Clark should be."

"Stop looming. It doesn't work on me." Toby's eyes narrowed fractionally. "If you're here interfering in their relationship--"

"I'm not interfering. I was invited."

"Yeah, well, vampires get invited too, but once they're inside people quickly change their minds."

Bruce was so thrown by the analogy he couldn't even manage a glare. Toby had always been a little too fond of old monster movies. Bruce sank into the chair at the edge of the bed, and rubbed at his eyes.

"I was going to call Clark, but he wouldn't have been able to stay out of it. I couldn't risk it, and Lex wouldn't have wanted me to. I still don't know what happened."

Toby nodded grudgingly. "Okay, near as I can tell without tests, Lex overdosed on something. Probably unintentionally, since he hasn't touched the hard stuff in years."

"No, he promised," Bruce said. Sure, it had taken a near-death experience to get him to stop, but he'd been true to his word since they were seventeen.

"You said he was belting back the scotch when he got home?"

"It seems to be his autonomic reaction to Lionel's presence."

Toby's look said he understood perfectly. "It was probably in that."

"And the helpful household staff has no doubt already cleaned everything up." Bruce didn't expect there to be any evidence that would point towards Lionel. He was too careful for that.

"No doubt," Toby agreed.

"What about a blood sample?" Bruce looked over at Lex's form, staring long enough to make sure he was breathing.

"With Lex's healing, it's probably already out of his system. You should try to get some sleep." Toby held up a needle in offering.

Bruce shook his head. "I don't sleep a lot."

"You never did," Toby said, touching his arm lightly. "Lex'll be okay. His body's remarkable. You know that."

"Yeah, I know." It came out with more of a leer than Bruce had intended. Toby rolled his eyes, but Bruce didn't care. It'd been a long night. "So what do I do?"

"Keep him warm, and I'll leave something to help get him through the after-effects. He should be okay by mid-afternoon or so."

"Good," Bruce murmured, and Toby could see relief etched on Bruce's face. It wasn't like him to let his feelings show like this. Toby had a pretty good idea what that meant.

"He scared the hell out of you tonight, didn't he?" Bruce's silence was confirmation enough. He closed his eyes and thought of what the two of them had been like together in high school. Apparently neither of them had outgrown this need for self-destruction.

"Clark's a decent kid, Bruce, and they've got it bad for each other. You can see it in their eyes. Don't do anything to fuck it up for them."

"Believe it or not, Toby, I just want him to be happy." Bruce's eyes never left Lex's form.

Toby squeezed his forearm to catch his attention. "Do you really think Lionel's involved?"

"I don't know," Bruce said, moving to the edge of the bed, and laying a hand on Lex's chest. The steady rise and fall was comforting. "Who can tell with Lionel?"

"But his own son? Lionel's a bastard, but would he hurt Lex?"

"I've been hearing a lot of things about Lionel. He's delving into things that are less than ethical. I don't think he'd try to kill Lex, but he's certainly not above trying to control him, or ensure his loyalty by whatever means necessary. And he's far too interested in Clark." Bruce's dark eyes focussed on Toby. "You can't say anything about their relationship."

"I heard rumours you and Lex were starting up again. Should I assume you're playing fox to the hounds?" Toby watched Bruce's expression carefully. Bruce had never had a clearly delineated line between reality and pretending. Toby wondered if Lex had forgotten that fact. Maybe they needed reminding. Both of them.

"Lionel wants something. Desperately. I don't know what it is yet, but he's willing to do anything to get it."

"And what are you willing to do to stop him?" Toby asked, gathering up his things and preparing to go.

Bruce stroked Lex's forehead. He stirred slightly, but didn't wake.

"Anything I have to."

Toby laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"I know the feeling," he said cryptically. Bruce didn't even feel the pinprick against his neck until it was too late, and the shadows were already starting to creep across his vision.

***

 _DEC. 22_

Lionel had always liked the blue room, but then again, he'd never had to spend a night in it. The blue chintz curtains, the blue bedspread, the cornflowers creeping along the blue border like an endless trail of staring eyes. The wallpaper seemed to ooze blue flowers from every possible crevice.

As soon as humanly possible, he was ordering a crew in to strip the walls and repaint the room. Any colour except blue.

His cell phone rang, and Lionel snatched it open.

"I am _not_ pleased," he said.

 _"How was I supposed to know he was going to guzzle the damn scotch like it was soda?"_

"You have a Ph.D. in biochemistry. I expect you to prepare for every contingency."

 _"I could've given you the antidote if you'd informed me earlier."_

Lionel rolled his eyes. Obviously a Ph.D. was no guarantee of intelligence. "If I suddenly appeared with the antidote, then I'd have to admit knowing about the drugs. As it was, I had to pretend absolutely nothing was happening, even when that witch doctor from Metropolis arrived."

 _"Mr Luthor?"_

"Never mind," Lionel said. Toby's arrival had probably saved Lex's life, and Lionel was grateful for that. He didn't want Lex dead; he wanted him compliant. There was a difference. "The point was to do this slowly, over a matter of months. You could've killed him."

 _"I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor. I'll reduce the dosage on the next batch."_

"We're going to have to change plans. Lex isn't stupid, and with Bruce Wayne here, well, let's just say he's not the most trusting soul." As if that wasn't the understatement of the century. He didn't care for the man anymore than he'd cared for the boy when he was Lex's roommate, but his attachment to Lex was useful.

 _"What do you want me to do?"_

"For now, nothing. I've ordered the helicopter. I'll be in Metropolis in an hour, and you can bring me up-to-date on our other project. Try not to disappoint me, Dr. Tang. I'm quite sure immigration would be interested to receive the actual details of your entry into this country."

Lionel hung up. This changed everything, but perhaps it could still work. He would have to be extremely careful, though. More careful than ever before. Lex and Bruce would be suspicious now, but with some careful manipulation that could work for him.

Yes. Maybe it wasn't a total loss.

He glanced at the doorway to Lex's room as he strode down the hallway. All was silent. He could only assume Toby had slithered back to whatever hole Bruce had dug him out of, and that Lex was on the path to recovery. Dr. Tang had assured him the effects, even of the dose Lex had inadvertently consumed, shouldn't be fatal. Especially with Lex's accelerated healing.

Yes, it could still work.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> For more information on the complete series, please see the first story in any of the _Shadows & Stone_ series.
> 
> Originally posted in November 2004. Revised and reposted January 2005.


End file.
